The Gathering Dark (27 page)

“Well, what can you see, exactly?”

“The ravine,” she said.

“Okay, but what else?” he prompted her. “Describe it to me. Pretend I can’t see it at all.”

She squinted. “There are bushes on the other side of the ravine but they’re tangled and fuzzy. And then there are trees past them. It looks like they’re growing in rows, sort of, and—” Keira jumped as everything came into sharp focus. A sudden wind slapped at her arms.

“Congratulations,” Walker said. “You made it. Welcome to Darkside.”

Keira stared at the trees. “There are . . . what are those three lumps back there?”

“Huts. It’s where the orchard workers live.”

“Will they see us?” Keira asked.

“No,” Walker assured her. “And even if they did, they wouldn’t recognize us. They’re pretty much the lowest rung of Darkling society. They live in the trees, they work in the trees, the only education they get is how to harvest what grows on the trees.”

“That sounds awful,” Keira said.

“Yes and no,” Walker said. “Come on, let’s cross back. I’ll feel more comfortable explaining when I know we can get away if we need to.”

“Oh. Right.” Keira turned so that the wind was at her back. She concentrated on the shiny black curves of the Mercedes, the unpleasant smell that wafted out of the Dumpsters.

“Keep trying,” Walker said.

Keira squeezed her eyes shut. Even though it was barely April in Sherwin, there was a first kiss of heat in the sun’s rays. The back of her neck arched toward that warmth and the faint chirp of a bird reached her ears.

Her eyes popped open. Darkside was gone and the parking lot was back beneath her feet.

“Nice job,” Walker said. “Wanna try it again?”

“No. Yes. I mean, not really, but I know I need to,” Keira stammered. She was shivering violently. She couldn’t imagine how cold she’d be after she went back and forth a second time. “What’s the deal with the hut dwellers?” she asked, stalling.

Walker laughed.

“What?”

“Pretty much all Darklings are ‘hut dwellers’ in one sense or another,” he said. “The Reformers have been in power for . . . sixteen thousand years?” he said doubtfully, his eyes rolled up in thought. “Yeah. Sixteen thousand years. That’s right.”

“You mean—they’re like a separate species? Or an ethnic group or something?”

Walker shook his head. “They’re definitely separate, but what I meant was that everyone else is so far beneath them, we might as well be orchard workers. In a lot of ways, the Reformers are ordinary Darklings. They’re just more important. You remember how I said that the orchard workers’ kids are only taught to be orchard workers?”

Understanding broke over Keira. “So—the Reformers’ kids
become the new Reformers? Like royalty or something?”

“Exactly. Forty thousand years ago, the priests ran most everything in Darkside, but they got more and more restrictive about what kind of music was right to worship, and who could play it and when. Eventually, the Darklings quit listening to the priests. As the years passed, the Darklings quit believing in music and lost the ability to make it at all . . . then the priests slowly disappeared. For a long time, there was no one ruling Darkside. It was just little groups of Darklings, fending for themselves and trying not to fight with their neighbors. But as Darkside itself became unstable, Darklings had to move away from the damaged bits. Which meant they encountered other Darklings who didn’t want to give up their land. There were fights—wars. Eventually, the Reformers came to power. They ended the wars, gave everyone a role, a job to do. Everyone did as they were told. The ones who didn’t were killed. In return, the Reformers provided for all the Darklings. Everyone had enough food and a place to live.”

Keira’s skin crawled. “It sounds awful.”

Walker shrugged. “It’s all anyone has ever known. The Reformers aren’t kind, but they’re powerful. They have history and tradition on their side too. Plus, the lower you are on the Darkside social scale, the less likely they are to notice you. That’s what I meant when I said that being one of the orchard workers wasn’t all bad. Those Darklings can pretty much live how they want, as long as they pick their quota of fruit. They’re almost free.”

“But you work for the Reformers.”

Walker nodded, his gaze holding hers. “The more educated and important your family is in things like science or art or record keeping, the more careful you have to be.”

The puzzle pieces slid together. “Your
aunt
—that’s why she’s so worried all the time.”

“Yep. She—” Walker stopped and stared at the back of the Dumpster.

Keira followed his gaze, trying to see Darkside. If she concentrated, let her focus go soft, like she was looking at an optical illusion, she could see the ravine, even without touching Walker. The stars had disappeared. Now the sky above it was streaked with black and gray, like an ever-changing piece of marble.

“What?” she asked. The shifting sky gave her the chills.

“Can you hear that?” he asked.

Keira listened, holding her breath. It reminded her of when she was little, and strained to hear the footsteps of the monsters she imagined creeping toward her bed in the dark.

Only this was much more terrifying.

“I can’t hear anything,” she whispered. “I didn’t think you could hear Darkside if you weren’t there.”

Walker looked surprised. “Of course you can hear Darkside.” A furrow appeared between his eyebrows. “You haven’t?”

She shook her head. “But then again, I just started
seeing
it. Maybe I just need more time?”

“Or a different focus. You have a musician’s ear, Keira. Just listen for a minute.” Walker held out his hand. Keira took it, thinking of hearing Darkside, rather than seeing it. She focused on the sounds of Sherwin, trying to hear something layered underneath the noise, the same way she saw Darkside and her own world simultaneously.

Her breath caught.

In the distance, she could hear a clinking noise, and it was getting closer. She’d done it. She could hear things that were happening in Darkside. The hair rose on the back of her neck.

“What the hell is
that
?”

“The Reformers’ guards. It’s their vehicles. They’re not good at getting through the trees.”

“They found us already?” Keira asked, tightening her grip on her backpack, ready to run.

Walker looked over at her. “We crossed last night. They probably started to trace us hours ago.” His face was so pale that even his lips had lost their color. “Damn. We have even less wiggle room than I thought. We need to get out of here.
Now.
”

Keira let go of his hand and the sound disappeared. The silence that surrounded her was almost worse than the sound of the vehicles. Now she couldn’t hear them coming for her.

And they were definitely coming for her.

Chapter Thirty-Five

T
ECHNICALLY, THE
H
ALL OF
Records was three houses away from Keira’s, through the backdoor neighbor’s and one to the south. Right by Jeremy Reynolds’s house. The thought of him living in a library of any kind made Keira’s lips twitch into an involuntary smile.

“So, how are we going to do this?” she asked, wadding up the wrapper of her greasy, drive-thru breakfast sandwich. Instead of making her feel better, the food sat in her stomach like a lump of clay.

Walker pulled the car over to the side of the empty street, running his hands around the steering wheel. “I think—if I go
through to Darkside and you stay here, then you’ll be able to see what I’m doing, but you’ll be safe. Well, saf
er
.”

“Okay,” Keira agreed. “In and out before they can track us?”

“Something like that.”

“Well, let’s go wheedle some information out of unsuspecting family members, hmm?”

“Excellent plan.”

Keira scanned the street. There were faded garden gnomes, vinyl siding, Christmas lights that were months past needing to be taken down—but behind all that, Darkside hovered, just beyond the normal world. She caught glimpses of enormous trees that were twisted and gnarled and unnaturally black. She saw the facade of the Hall of Records. But no people. No guards. No movement.

“Where is everyone?” she asked. “Surely they haven’t stopped looking for us?”

Walker shook his head. “No. But since they seem to have found the tear we made in the ravine, they’ll probably have most of their forces out there. I’m sure they left a scout around here, but that’s another reason we need to do this now—they’ll be distracted.”

Walker parked two blocks away. As soon as the car came to a stop, Keira grabbed the door handle. If she waited any longer, she was probably going to lose her nerve.

“Then what are we waiting for?” She stepped out onto the
soggy spring lawn next to the car. Her ballet flats squelched unpleasantly in the mud.

“Okay,” Walker came to stand next to her. “Ready?”

“Yep,” she said.

They hurried down the sidewalk in silence and stopped in front of the spot where the Hall of Records lurked. Their hands found each other effortlessly. Comfortably.

Darkside came completely into view and the dizzying sensation of being caught between two worlds swept over Keira. She squeezed Walker’s hand, steadying herself.

“Stay quiet and stay close,” he reminded her.

“Got it. Let’s go.”

Hand in hand, they walked into her neighbor’s backyard. Keira stared uncomfortably at the houses around them. She’d been so worried about what might happen if someone caught them Darkside, she hadn’t really stopped to think about what could happen if someone caught them trespassing. Still, as long as they were outside, it would be easy to pretend they were headed back to her house.

“We’re here.” Walker’s voice was low.

Keira dragged her attention back to Darkside, ignoring the headache that blossomed behind her eyes as her focus shifted. The size of the building that surrounded them was overwhelming. They stood in a massive central room, ringed by huge pillars that supported a series of archways. Above them, tiny
rooms, like the cells of a beehive, stacked on top of one another, all the way to the ceiling. She could see into some, but others were covered by doors that looked like they were made of leather. Beyond the pillars were hallways that lead deeper into the building, twisting away so that whatever lay at their ends was hidden from view. Keira wondered what secrets might be hidden in the dark bowels of the Hall of Records.

She dragged her attention away from the dizzying expanse of the Hall. Directly in front of them was an ornate table littered with tiny boxes. Oblivious to the fact that he was being watched, a robed figure bent over the small containers, stacking them according to some system that Keira couldn’t understand. A few of the boxes lay open, revealing gleaming black objects that looked like needles.

“What are those?” Keira whispered.

“Needles,” Walker murmured back.

The one time I really wanted to be wrong . . .

She hated needles. She’d almost fainted the last time she had a shot. And she didn’t even want to think about what the Darklings might be using them for.

Walker glanced around the Hall. Keira watched as his eyes followed a Darkling’s robed back. When the room was empty except for the guy at the desk, Walker let out a long breath.

“Okay, I’m going over.” He let go of her hand and Keira’s headache intensified as she struggled to keep Darkside in focus on her own. His expression was grim as he stared at her. “You
be careful. I don’t want anything to happen to you.” The end of the last word snapped off as he crossed.

Across the desk, the guy’s head snapped up. It was Smith. Keira saw his strangled cry at Walker’s sudden appearance, but all she heard was the gasp that came from her own throat.

Her surprise broke her focus and blotted out her view of Darkside. Keira was left staring at scruffy grass and worn vinyl siding.

Crap. She focused on Walker, then Smith behind the desk. She concentrated with everything she had, until the hush of the enormous Hall overshadowed the distant-traffic-and-small-animals noise of the yard.

Smith looked like a very large and unpredictable dog had cornered him. “Walker! What in discord are you doing here?” His words were intelligible, but just barely. She understood him in the same instinctive way she understood the rhythm of a drumbeat. “I thought you were allergic to this place.”

“Good to see you too, Smith,” Walker said. His speech had taken on the same pattering rhythm as Smith’s. All at once, Keira realized that they weren’t speaking English, and yet she still understood every word.

Shivering, Keira stepped closer to Walker. If they’d been in the same world, she would be near enough to touch him. It was like being a ghost. He knew she was there, but Smith stared straight past her—straight
through
her—without even a flicker of recognition. The invisibility should have calmed her. After
all, she didn’t want to be seen Darkside. Being seen meant getting caught. In spite of the logic of it, she felt more vulnerable, more exposed, when she didn’t know exactly who could and couldn’t see her.

Smith rose behind the desk. He wore a robe. It was shaggy and graphite-colored, like someone had shaped a pile of iron filings into a garment. “You really shouldn’t be here,” he hissed. “Up until last night, the Hall’s grounds were
swarming
with guards. They
know
, Walker. They know about Keira. I heard them talking. You should get out of here before they come back.”

The fear in Smith’s words buzzed through the air like a swarm of wasps, but Walker stayed remarkably calm.

“I’m not planning on staying long, but yeah, I am having just the
tiniest
bit of trouble.” Keira could see the line of his jaw sharpen, but that was the only sign of his tension. “That’s why I came to see you.”

Smith narrowed his eyes, but Walker looked like he wasn’t bothered at all by the challenge in Smith’s face.

Pride swept through Keira, drowning her in a high tide of new feeling for Walker. Every time she got used to the intensity between them, something deepened it.